


Hey, Mr. Perfect!

by deltachye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, One Shot Collection, Other, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x takashi shirogane, pre-kerberos] [legendary defenders reboot]For all his perfection, Shiro had to have some flaws. ...right?





	1. [i] - He hits the snooze button and never gets up.

* * *

 

It wasn’t exactly protocol for you and Shiro to be sharing a dorm, but there was a bit of leniency that came with being the girlfriend of one of the Garrison’s most treasured graduates. The system still thought you were logged in the women’s dorms, but a little hush hush never hurt anybody.   
  
You woke unceremoniously to the sound of his alarm: a strict monotonous beeping that was accompanied with jittery vibrations of the standard issue clock. As a pilot, Shiro operated on a different schedule from you, and as such he was forced to wake up earlier. That was fine and well–the two of you saw each other enough later in the day. The alarm shut off and you drifted back to sleep, warm and comforted in the feeling of his strong arms.  
  
Then you woke up a second time to the same alarm, in the same hug.  
  
A little moan of exhaustion escaped you. You’d been up for hours the previous day because of work with analyzing the Mars soil samples, so it was understandable that you were drained, and needed proper sleep. You turned over and prodded Shiro’s arm weakly.  
  
“Wake up,” you muttered groggily, your voice hoarse. He muttered something and rolled away from you, shutting off the alarm by slapping it until it quieted. You immediately tried to go back to sleep, feeling the blankets rustle as you did, so you distantly hoped that he was getting up.  
  
But the alarm jolted you awake again.  
  
For a moment you wondered if this was one of those waking dreams. A dream within a dream–surely, he’d have gotten up by now, right? You opened your eyes slowly, but the mass weighing you down was enough to inform you of the situation.  
  
“Shiro!” You scowled, wriggling from underneath him. His face buried deeper into the crook of your neck and he sighed disgruntledly.  
  
“Go back… sleep,” was all he could manage to say.  
  
“What time is it? Don’t you have  _work_  to do?”   
  
“Ten more minutes…” he slumped onto you further, making it difficult to breathe, what with a massive guy hanging out on your chest. You swatted at his shoulder like a broken boxer tapping out of the ring, annoyed with his behaviour. After all, this happened every day. Not once would Shiro wake up at the first alarm, and you seriously started to worry about what would happen once he was blasted out to the edge of the solar system.  
  
“You’re the esteemed pilot for the Kerberos mission, and you can’t even get up on time? Come  _on_!”  
  
“Okay then…  _five_  more minutes. Loud girl quiet now.” He sighed, the heavy exhale warming your ear. A hand had somehow found its way to your open palm and his larger fingers curled around yours. Cute, but you weren’t having it.  
  
“Takashi Shirogane!”  
  
The usage of his full name seemed to clarify his sleep-addled brain a bit and he raised his head enough so that he could look down at you. The end of his nose brushed with yours. His sharply angular eyes were half-closed and he peered down at your face inquisitively, as if to question if you were real or not. You pouted up at him.  
  
“Five more minutes,” he repeated, falling back onto you with enough force to knock air out of your lungs. He yawned, pressing his face into your neck, the sensation of his skin on yours running shivers down your spine.  
  
“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, but lay still with defeat. You weren’t strong enough to lift him on your own, and he probably knew it. How sly of him.  
  
“Shh,” he mumbled again, lifting his head once more to plant a sloppy kiss on the side of your face. His lips dragged against your jaw as he fell back into the bedding. “Go back to sleep.”  
  
“ _You’re_  the one that needs to get up.”  
  
“In five minutes. Just lemme stay here with you, okay?”  
  
“…flattery won’t get you anywhere when they reprimand you for tardiness,” you muttered, turning your face away into the pillow, embarrassed with the warmth creeping up your neck. When the alarm went off again, Shiro hit snooze… and continued to sleep.   
  
“I hate you,” you sighed, closing your eyes.   
  
But, during its next and final ring–it went on, untouched by two very awake and very busy people.


	2. [ii] - He refuses to make the bed.

“I’m home,” you called out, letting the automatic door slide shut behind you. There was the distant sound of water running, informing you that Shiro was most likely in the shower unit. You shrugged off your lab coat and undid a few buttons on your uniform, turning the corner to be faced with… a messy bed. You could’ve sworn that you’d made it when you left.  
  
“Oh, you’re back. How was squinting at rocks all day?”  
  
You turned around as Shiro peered into the small hall leading to the bedding area. A towel draped over his head and his dark hair was slicked back with moisture. His Garrison pyjamas were wrinkled and a couple sizes too small, accentuating his muscular build. You paid that as little mind as you could.  
  
“It was great! What I’d like to know is why the bed isn’t made.”  
  
Immediately the carefree grin on his face fell and he scowled.  
  
“Why should I make it? I’m going to sleep in it again, aren’t I?”  
  
“That’s not the point! It’s messy! Just look at it. It’s not hard; all you have to do is tuck in the blankets.”   
  
“Who cares if it’s  _messy_?”  
  
“I do!”  
  
“Then  _you_  make the bed.”  
  
“I  _do_  make the bed! And then you mess it up all over again!”  
  
“Seriously. I’m an esteemed pilot and you’re nagging  _me_  about making the bed?”  
  
You ground your teeth together. He always played the rank card.  
  
“I’m sleeping on the couch if you decide not to make the bed again,” you decided with finality, shaking your head and stalking off to change.  
  
When you took a sneaky peek around the corner afterwards, the blankets were tucked half-heartedly, an edge trailing along the floor. But it was good enough.

 


	3. [iii] - He wastes paper when printing or writing things.

You turned the piece of paper over in your hands, your brow furrowing. Shiro noticed your unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Why’d you only write one thing on this and throw it out?”  
  
He shrugged. “It was a rough draft.”  
  
“But you only wrote one word. In pencil. You could’ve just erased it and started again. Or used the other side.”  
  
He scratched his head a bit sheepishly. “It’s easier to just get a new piece of paper.”  
  
“And this.” You put down the paper you were holding and held up a stack of others, each with a single picture printed out. “Why didn’t you just resize these pictures to fit on one paper?  
  
“That takes effort and time.”  
  
“More like an extra minute or two. Come on, Shiro, you’re wasting resources here. At this rate we’re going to have to grow trees on Mars to keep up with you.” You didn’t mention it, but every sheet of paper he used cost your joint commissary fund twenty-five cents, and you were starting to wonder if you even  _had_  twenty-five cents left.  
  
“That’d be cool though, wouldn’t it? Trees on Mars?”  
  
“No, because it’s not possible.”  
  
“Nothing’s impossible if you believe.”  
  
“Growing plants without oxygen is pretty impossible! Stop wasting paper!”


	4. [iv] - He stays up into ungodly hours just to play video games.

Often times you would get back late due to pouring overtime hours into your research. However, some days, staring at microscope slides for signs of life got a bit tiring, so you would call quits early. When you got home, Shiro was in the middle of some intense looking video game that seemed to be a simulation of cartoon space flight. You let him be for a while.   
  
“Dinner’s ready!”  
  
No response.  
  
Since he was in the middle of grueling training for the long-haul flight to the Kuiper belt, you decided to let him have his fun undisturbed and left the plate on the counter. You went to the study, did some paperwork, and a bit of reading. You took a shower and got ready for bed. Walking back into the hall, you could see that the plate of food was untouched.  
  
“Shiro, you’ve gotta eat.”  
  
“In a minute,” he mumbled, jerking to the left physically as his animated ship took a sharp turn.   
  
 _You’ve been saying that for six hours._  
  
“If I unplug the game, will you eat?”  
  
He didn’t even spare a second to take his eyes off the screen, but there was an increased tension in the air that told you he just might exercise some of his mixed martial arts training on you if you dared to. You sighed to yourself and shook your head.  
  
“Don’t stay up too long,” you called over your shoulder, heading to bed first.  
  
Some time in the early hours of dawn, you woke, your throat dry. You stumbled out of bed and dragged a hand along the wall to navigate in the dark, only to find a dim glow of light at the end of the hall. You checked your watch, squinting at the backlit surface. It was two in the morning. Two oh two if you wanted to be finicky.  
  
“Shiro, you’re  _still_  playing that game?!”  
  
“Shh. I’m almost first on the leaderboard!”  
  
You stood in the hall silently for a moment before deciding that his health outweighed any of the cons, and you could (probably) take a suplex from him.   
  
“Game, shut down,” you said with a raised voice, enunciating clearly.  
  
“Shut down?” the machine’s AI asked calmly.  
  
“Confirm.”  
  
Shiro’s scream of horror woke the rest of the dorm, and he was not the only angry man thirsty for your blood.


	5. [v] - He forgets and misplaces things.

It wasn’t just at home that Shiro failed to put away things. He just forgot things everywhere. He wasn’t so incompetent that he forgot anything important. It was usually something trivial like a pen, or a dime. Often times he would misplace things, too. When you couldn’t find something, he’d probably stuck it in the fridge absentmindedly. That was where you found your ID badge the last time.  
  
“Can you, like, not leave your bowl in bed next time?” you’d ask.  
  
“Oh yeah, my bad. Sorry,” he’d say.  
  
And then there’d be a dirty plate on the coffee table.  
  
“Can you put stuff away when you’re done next time?” you’d ask.  
  
“Oh yeah, sure. Sorry,” he’d say.  
  
And then there’d be a full dishwasher waiting for you when you opened it.  
  
In an act of petty passive-aggressiveness, you decided that you’d do the same. You left your half-finished glass of water out on the bedside table and waited for him to get annoyed by its out-of-placeness. He never did. You kept leaving things around, determined to get him to notice: keys, clothes, wrappers, and it were as if Shiro couldn’t even see them. This amount of inattentiveness made you wonder if he really was the right guy to send on an exploratory mission to the edge of the solar system.  
  
“What’s that for?” he suddenly asked, pointing at the mound of laundry you’d literally dumped in the entranceway. He didn’t inquire further, merely stepping over it, not even bothering to ask you to clean it.   
  
You sighed.  
  
“Nothing.”


	6. [vi] - He eats candy until his stomach hurts.

Shiro was not just the image of—he  _was_  a perfect leader. Not only did he have to portray a constant aura of confidence and strength, he had to mask his own feelings, no matter how strongly he felt about it. The thing was, you already knew whenever he was putting up a big front, and you knew something was up.  
  
“Shiro? Is everything okay?” you asked, looking over with concern. You knew that he didn’t like to talk about weakness, but he’d been like this since noon, and you were starting to get worried. He flinched and tendons in his jaw works as he decided whether or not to tell the truth.   
  
“…I have a stomachache.”  
  
Your brow furrowed for a second before the events of earlier clicked into place.  
  
 _“Oh. Look, Shiro! My mom sent over some candies and sweets from home. But don’t eat them all at once, okay?”_  
  
“…sure.”  
  
A quick peek in the empty pantry confirmed your suspicions.  
  
“Serves you right,” you said with a wry grin, patting him on the shoulder. He grimaced slightly, curling up on the couch, but gave you a sheepish smile to match your own.  
  
“It was worth it.”  
  
With a little laugh, you leant over and kissed his cheek, like you would with a sick kid. “I’ll go brew you some tea to help with your tummy.”  
  
“Tell your mom thanks.”

 


	7. [vii] - He’ll procrastinate on taking out the trash for as long as possible.

Sometimes the trashcan became a game board.  
  
Normal dorms had trash disposals built in, where waste would be ground up and disposed of automatically. But, Shiro had broken his some time ago, and had never gotten it fixed (in other words, he was too lazy to). Replacing it was an old-timey trash bin, with the little step and everything. You doubted that he would be mature enough to manage that, and you were right.  
  
The bin was already full four days ago. You had already resolved yourself not to take care of it—as to teach Shiro some responsibility—but it was starting to get on your nerves. Three days ago, the lid was permanently propped open by a pizza box. Two days ago, he had gotten creative, balancing paper towels and soda cans like a jenga tower. Now, he was taping his garbage onto the side, as not to let it touch the floor. It was almost becoming an art piece.  
  
You turned around and gave him the  _look_. He pretended not to see, like he was pretending that the garbage wasn’t full.  
  
“I think you should take out the trash,” you finally said out loud, unable to stifle your annoyance any longer.  
  
“Really? Well, I think it can still wait a few days.”  
  
That night, you hid the tape and spare trash bags. He got up to get a drink of water during the night, and you heard a very loud swear accompanied by the sound of a week’s worth of garbage clattering to the floor. Needless to say, it was a very smug feeling to wake up to the sight of him lugging the garbage bag out into the dorm hallway, looking sullen the entire way.

 


	8. [viii] - He sneezes really loudly. Without warning.

“Aah!”

“What? What is it?!”

“You scared me!”

He sighed with relief and you glared at him, holding your chest, the feeling of your racing heartbeat throbbing against your fingertips. 

“How did I scare you? All I did was sneeze.”

“But you sneeze so _loudly_.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do! Look, everybody’s staring.”

“They are _not_ …” But a cursory glance around the hall told a different story. Some of the privates looked away sheepishly, and one of them stooped low to pick up the papers they had dropped.

“You really should let people know when you’re about to sneeze,” you said wistfully, remembering all of the things _you_ had dropped because of his elephant-like sneeze. He didn’t say anything in response so you turned to look, horrified with the scrunched up expression on his face.

“T-tissue!” you yelped, shoving it into his face to try and muffle the noise. Your attempt was for naught, and several halls down, a man looked up.

“Did you hear that?” he asked his friend.

“Sounded like a sneeze.”


	9. [ix] - He’ll chew on (borrowed!) pens.

“Hey, can I have that pen you borrowed from me back?”

“Which one?”

“The blue one.”

“Oh, right. Give me a sec…”

You were too busy writing to glance up, so you took the first thing he gave to you without taking your eyes off the paper. But, when you were expecting the smooth surface of an expensive writing pen, the unfamiliar ridges made you recoil with disgust. You dropped it, your concentration thoroughly broken. You picked it up off the floor and gasped with horror with what you saw.

“You… you _chewed_ on it?!”

“Hm? Yeah, that’s one of my bad habits… sorry.”

“What about the other ones I lent you? Where are they!?”

After hunting down the twelve pens you had kindly allowed him to use over the years, you discovered that all twelve were ruined beyond repair, teeth marks scoring your precious belongings. You collapsed to the floor, holding them to your chest dramatically.

“My children!” you sobbed, holding the handful of destroyed pens up to the sky (in your case, dorm ceiling).

“Sorry,” Shiro said, not sounding very apologetic. You whirled around and glared at him through your teary eyes.

“I’ll never let you borrow a pen again, for as long as I live!”


	10. [x] - He’s overprotective to the point that you’ll think he’s your dad.

“So, for sample A, I was thinking that we should skip the pH test and move straight to reactivity.”

“And we would substitute with sample B, from Acidalia Planitia?”

“Yes. In my opinion, that seems like the best course of action.”

“I concur. We’ll rearrange the sample line tomorrow. Good work.”

“Thank you, sir.” You beamed up at him and saluted. You tucked your clipboard back under your arm and slumped over once your superior left, sighing with relief and self-satisfaction. You turned and glared at the corner of the hall intersection. “You can come out now, Shiro.”

“I was just walking past,” he lied, blatantly, stepping out from behind the decorative palm. His almond eyes were narrowed suspiciously and he stared down the hall where your research leader had gone. “So, who was that guy? You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“He’s the guy I’ve been having an affair with. Who do you think, Shiro? He’s my research lead. Not to mention he’s like, fourty years older than me!” You scowled, smacking him on the arm with your clipboard. 

“Hey, okay, no need for any hitting! I’m just worried, okay? I mean, I’m gonna be gone on a year-long trip, so I’m just scoping people out.” He prodded at you jokingly, but you didn’t glare back—instead, you frowned.

“Yeah,” you muttered, suddenly looking away. “A year, and you don’t even trust me.”

“Oh,” Shiro said quietly, which was his way of saying ‘oops’. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, glancing up at him. “You’ve been hovering over my shoulder non-stop.”

“It’s just because I care about you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but that’s what you say to everybody.”

“Then how about this: I love you.”

You stopped in the hall, staring at him openly.

“D-don’t say that so suddenly!” you yelped, hitting him with the clipboard again. He flinched away from you.

“Ow! Okay, I’m sorry! What do you want from me?!”

You fanned yourself with the plastic board, trying desperately to hide the tiny grin that had finally broken from your downcast expression.


	11. [xi] - He always forgets to call or text home.

When the pneumatic door slid open, you jerked awake, sitting up from the couch with lightning speed. The lights flickered on and Shiro looked at you strangely, freezing in place. 

“What are you doing there? Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked.

“Because I was wondering where you were. It’s one AM and you didn’t _think_ to tell me that you’d be late?”

“Oh… right, I forgot to tell you that I was doing overtime.” He ran a hand through his dark hair with a small groan, making you frown.

“I was really worried,” you muttered to yourself, your voice cracking a little. Sensing what was to come, Shiro came forwards and quickly wrapped you up into a tight embrace. You clutched the fabric of his shirt, struggling to hold back your stupid sobs by pressing your face into his shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve called.” His voice was quiet and soothing, but you also heard a strain of guilt. You sniffled, inhaling deeply to compose yourself.

“You should’ve. What if something happened to you? Or… Or…”

“I know. But I’m okay.”

“What if you _weren’t_?”

“But I’m okay. I’ll always be okay.” He rubbed your back and pulled away just enough so that you could see the sincerity in his soft, tanned features. 

“…let’s go to bed,” you mumbled in grudging acceptance, wiping tears from your face with the heel of your hand. He brushed the strays away with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

“Did you really sit out here all this time waiting for me?” he asked, scooping you up into his arms to carry you. You slung your arms around his neck and nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak. He chuckled quietly, the warm sound deep in his chest.

“I’m lucky to have you, then.”

“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded, but you hugged him tightly all the same.


	12. [xii] - He’s so, so, so stubborn.

As you were walking past the mirror hung up in the main living area, your customary coffee in hand, you noticed something out of place on Shiro’s chest.

“I think you pinned your service stripes off centre. Here, let me—”

“It’s fine.” He gently pushed your hand away, continuing to brush his hair in front of the mirror. You raised an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly, reaffirming your suspicion that his service stripes and medal was crooked in comparison to the red clip.

“Just let me fix it.”

“It’s fine. Nothing needs to be fixed.” Once again, he took your hand and gently maneuvered it away from his chest. You frowned.

“You’re getting your photo taken today, aren’t you? The one that’s going to be broadcasted around the world forever and ever? Seen by billions? C’mon, just let me fix it, Shiro.” 

“I don’t see anything that needs to be fixed,” he insisted, his tone kept light with a touch of that signature and dangerous resolve behind it. You blinked before darting your hand out towards the pins. Deftly, he deflected your advance and sidestepped you in a single fluid motion. He wasn’t a black belt out of pure luck, after all.

“It’s totally crooked!” you insisted exasperatedly. “Look, it’s at an angle compared to the one above it!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Shiro, do you need glasses? Do you need me to get my protractor out? I’ll go get it. It’s on my desk.”

“No need for protractors. The stripe is _fine_.”

Silently, you tried to reach for his service stripe again, only to have his hand engulf yours. You tried to move your arm but found yourself to be totally pinned in place by his overwhelming strength. He smiled down at you. 

“It’s not crooked.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you have _eyes_ , buddy?”

“Do _you_?”

You closed your eyes with exasperation and relaxed your arm, shaking it out of his grip. “Fine. If you want to go out there with messed up service stripes, be my guest.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

A week later, the photo was printed in press, and you had it pinned it up on the fridge. A large red circle was drawn around the obviously crooked service stripe.

TOLD YOU SO was scrawled underneath with NO IT’S NOT written afterwards, his stubborn tone practically emanating from the black sharpie.


	13. [xiii] - He takes terrible notes and has the handwriting of a four year old.

When you had first met Shiro, he had been in the same stat classes as you. Garrison cadets were not only forced through vigorous physical training (save for you, who was a weak nerd joining the localized research team), but they underwent fairly advanced education as well. As such, you were practically dead inside, tuckered out from studying for the eight different courses you made the mistake of taking. You had been spacing out a bit for the professor’s lecture and by the time you shook yourself out of the dazed stupor, the lesson had already ended. Panicky, you turned to the guy next to you before he could leave.

“Excuse me! Can I please borrow your notes for a second?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.” He passed over his notebook without hesitation and you clenched a fist under the desk with excitement and relief. However, a single glance down at the paper wiped the smile off of your face, and replacing it was a slash of a frown.

“What… is this?”

“What do you mean? Those are my notes.” The tall Asian male leant over and peered down at the paper, nodding affirmation that he’d given you the right page. 

“…is this even English?” You turned the paper a full three hundred and sixty degrees, to no avail. Whatever was written had to be chicken scratch. Or a joke. You gave him a glare. “You better not be jerking my leg. It’s not cheating to share notes or anything, and it’s not as if you’ll gain an advantage by not helping me.”

“I know. Those are my actual notes. What, can’t you read them?”

“ _You_ can?!”

“Yeah. See, that one talks about the… wait, let me see those.” He snatched his notebook back from you and squinted downwards. He scratched his head. “Damn, I could’ve sworn I wrote something about the trajectory of a moving spacecraft here…”

“Why don’t you take notes with a laptop like a normal person?” you asked weakly, feeling defeat. He glowered at you.

“Then I won’t remember anything. Take your own notes if you’re going to complain.”

Two years later, nothing had changed. You peered at the paper left on the counter, rotating it 360 degrees. You squinted. You looked at it from several angles. You couldn’t make out a single word.

“Shiro, come read this for me.”

“The grocery list? Fine. See, it says… it says…”

“You can’t read it, can you?”

“Just give me a minute!”


	14. [xiv] - He’ll stop talking mid-sentence.

“How’s your dad? Is his leg okay, now?”

“He’s…” Shiro trailed off suddenly, his gaze directed past your head dreamily. You turned around, seeing nothing but the heads of the other cadets eating in the shared cafeteria. Turning back to Shiro, he did nothing but continue to eat, silent.

“Is he okay?” you pressed, anxious and fearing the worst. “What happened to him?!”

He blinked at you, surprised with your sudden concern. “He’s fine. Didn’t I tell you? My mom said he’s perfectly healthy, now, thanks to the physiotherapy.”

You sighed with both relief and annoyance, slumping a little. 

“You stopped talking midsentence,” you grumbled accusatorily.

“I don’t do that. You’re over…” again, he mumbled into silence and continued eating, sipping at his water canteen. It was as if he continued the sentence in his head, not realizing that you were left hanging. You sucked in a deep breath.

“Hey, Shiro?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“How would you like it if I suddenly stopped…” 

You said nothing afterwards, staring at him defiantly. He met your gaze patiently, waiting for you to continue. 

“Forgot what you were going to say?” he asked innocently, entirely missing the point of the exercise.

“Ugh, I hate you sometimes!” you muttered, slamming down your fork disgruntledly. He laughed at your childish behaviour and followed you to the disposal bins. 

“Hey,” he said to catch your attention. You grunted in response.

“I…” 

“Yes?” you asked, raising an eyebrow to mask the fact that your heart had started kicking a bit faster. He winked at you instead and saluted jokingly, walking away while laughing to himself as you stomped a foot.


	15. [xv] - He snores. Loudly.

Naps with Shiro was one of the best aspects of dating him. You fit snugly into his arms, and he was always just the right warmth to keep you comfortable. Unfortunately for you, there was a major drawback.

He snored.

Loudly.

You’d stuck all kinds of nose-strips on him. At one point, you smothered him with a pillow, but his snuffling resonated through it anyways. You had gotten used to earplugs at this point.

When you didn’t hear the customary rumble, you turned over in bed and pulled a foam plug out. His figure was stock-still and you could faintly make out his breathing, but you knew he was only pretending to be asleep.

“Is something wrong?” you whispered. He turned his head to look at you before smiling reassuringly.

“No.”

“Is it because of the Kerberos mission meeting?”

Apparently you had hit the nail on the head, because he sighed quietly through his nose, turning away. You hadn’t been present at the meeting, but whispers lead to gossip about possible mission cancellation. The reason behind such a massive mission abortion was left unknown, so you were fairly sure there was no real merit behind the rumours. However, something like that would devastate Shiro, who had dreamt all his life to be an explorer. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said reassuringly, despite not knowing what you were assuring him of. You curled your arm around his large torso and scooted closer to him, pressing your head to his chest. His heartbeat was loud and calming, like a metronome.

“…yeah,” he murmured after a while. You stuck the earplug back in, and soon enough, the steady snore let you drift off to sleep.


	16. [xvi] - He leaves the milk outside.

When it came to milk in the mini-fridge, there were two cardinal rules. One: Leave it in the fridge. Two: don’t leave it in the side door. Yet, Shiro had apparently lost the ability to comprehend simple instructions, disobeying either the first, or the second.

“If you don’t put it back in the fridge, it’s gonna go bad early.”

“Mhm.”

“And if you put it in the side door, it’s not as cold, and spoils anyways!”

“Mhm.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Mhm.”

“…are you a big fat idiot?”

He blinked and looked up at you.

“What were you saying?” he asked innocently, a sparkle of amusement in his grin.

You breathed a long sigh before deciding that you might as well not have milk in the fridge at all.


	17. [xvii] - He has an irrational love for small animals.

There weren’t any animals or pets allowed in the dorms. It was a security breach, a health hazard, and frankly, it’d get quite messy. Apparently, this perfectly sound reasoning did not stop Shiro, and you walked in on him trying to stuff a dog into his shirt. Which was a horrible way to hide it, you thought, but that was not the biggest problem.

“Where did you get it?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, cradling the puppy in his arms. The small shiba inu yipped and you shushed it, your eyes darting to the door as if the guard would suddenly bust in. 

“We can’t keep it, you _know_ that. And this is like, the fourth dog you’ve brought in, not counting the cats!”

“But… look at him! I found it all alone and it just wouldn’t stop following me.” He held the golden puppy up in his hands, the dog’s hind legs dangling amiably. It yipped again, panting, its curly tail wagging sporadically. Shiro’s brown eyes resembled the dog’s and your heart physically pained you. You turned away so that you didn’t have to face them.

“Shiro,” you warned, rubbing your temples, “get it out of here.”

“But…”

“No! This is the last time! You _promised_ me that _last_ time was the last time!”

“You’re evil,” he muttered, hurt. The headache finally blossomed when the puppy yipped again. 

“…look, okay. I’ll allow it for the night. Just the night! You’ve got to take him out of base tomorrow. Okay?”

“Really?!” He was so excited that he practically leapt at you, planting a kiss on your cheek. Lifting the dog up, Shiro’s puppy licked your other cheek, a trail of saliva following the spongy tongue.

“Just… for… the night,” you said through gritted teeth, patting its head begrudgingly.


	18. [xviii] - He always steals the covers. No matter where you are.

It wasn’t just because you were shorter and smaller than him. You were really starting to believe that Shiro had something against you.

“Aha!” you shouted. He woke up jerkily, sitting up halfway with a garbled ‘whassat’.

“What are you yelling about?” he groaned after scanning for a threat besides your grumpiness. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Look. I told you!” 

His bleary gaze followed your finger to the blanket and he shrugged half-heartedly.

“What?”

“You’re stealing the blanket.”

And you were right. Somehow, he had managed to tuck part of the comforter under his leg, and you’d caught him in the act of pulling the sheets off of you. You twiddled your exposed toes and glared at him.

“This is why I get sick all the time! I’m _cold_.”

“Get your own blanket then,” he decided with a little yawn, turning over. The action ripped the rest of the blankets off of you, to your dismay.

“This is unfair. I’m going to report you for this, Shiro.” Despite your grumbling, he had already fallen asleep, and the two hundred pound man wasn’t about to shift easily. You committed yourself to another chilly night and got up in search for another sweater.


	19. [xix] - He watches TV shows without you.

You didn’t want to seem _too_ desperate, so you restrained yourself from running. However, you had gotten to clock out early. Having off-days were rare, and it just so happened that today lined up with one of Shiro’s. You were eager to spend as much time with the soon-to-be-gone pilot as possible, so you settled for a speedy walk, breezing past people in the halls.

“Shiro?” you called after tapping your keycard to the lock, “you there?”

There was the sound of the television around the corner, but no reply. You dropped your lab coat onto the kitchen stool and peered around the corner, gasping at the sight.

“ _Shiro_!”

He whipped around on the sofa, his mouth full of popcorn. Quickly, he shut off the TV, but you had already seen.

“I can’t believe you,” you whispered, shaking your head. His face was coloured slightly with embarrassment.

“Look, I can explain—”

“You’re watching ‘Keeping Up With the Kardashians’ _without me_?! What about ‘Keeping Up Our Relationship’, huh?” 

“I finished the other one—”

You screeched, making him wince.

“You watched the season finale without me?!”

“I didn’t think you would get back until later,” he admitted quite lamely. You scowled at him.

“Move over. We’re going to watch the episodes again, and you’re not going to say a word to me about them.”

Visibly relieved, he made room for you, tentatively pulling you close when you plopped down on the couch. You allowed it begrudgingly, because despite your annoyance, you knew that he’d be blasting off to a moon in the middle of nowhere (also known as the Kuiper Belt) very soon.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked quietly in a meek tone, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“That depends on who dies in the season finale.”


	20. [xx] - He's always late for dates.

“You’re sure Takashi is okay?” Shiro’s mother asked you, in a casual tone that did little to hide the reedy worry in her voice. You smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m not sure why he’s so late…” you twirled your hair a little anxiously, tapping your foot.

“Well, he is busy. Soon, he flies away into space.” His father also seemed a touch more concerned than usual and fiddled with the edge of his shirt cuff. Even his accent sounded more rough than usual. You breathed in deeply. _Come on, Shiro, where are you…?_

“I’m here!” he blurted, as if you had actually summoned him with your prayer. He breezed into the empty chair, breathing a little heavy, as if he’d been running. (Which he had better damn been doing.) “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re always late,” his mother chided immediately, all of her previous concern dissolving into energy for scolding. “What kind of behaviour is that? It is so rude!”

“I got held up,” he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry mom, dad.”

“You’re apologizing to us? What about _her_? She has to deal with you! Pah.” His father muttered something else in Japanese that made Shiro frown slightly.

“Dad!” he hissed under his breath. You blinked a little, surprised to see his face flush red.

“He is right,” his mother said in English. She gave you an almost shifty, guilty glance and hastily muttered something in rapid-fire Japanese. Shiro scowled and spoke back, and judging from their tones, it was something he wasn’t happy about. 

“Um, Shiro? What’re they saying?” you whispered, leaning towards him.

“N-nothing,” he replied hastily, eyes wide. You raised an eyebrow. He never stuttered. 

“I was saying that being late is no way to treat one’s future wife!” his father blurted out stately. Your breath hitched and you just about choked on your own spit.

“Dad, please…” Shiro groaned.

“Takashi, you are going to leave her for a year, and you did not ask her to marry you? Oh, dear,” his mother said, suddenly looking at you with pity, “I’m so sorry for him. We have raised him wrong, shame on us and the family name...”

“Um, no, it’s okay…?” you stammered out stupidly, drawing a total blank on how to reply to something like that. You shot an SOS glance to Shiro, but he was pretending to stare intently at the table. 

“Look, let’s just all enjoy a dinner without questioning our relationship, shall we?” Shiro cut in, before hastily muttering something in Japanese. You really wished you had brought your auto-translator and stared at his parents to judge their reactions. You expected another passive-aggressive back-and-forth, but to your surprise, they both nodded thoughtfully. Then his father leant in seriously, saying more words in a questioning tone. Shiro nodded resolutely in response, and you didn’t know why they both looked so determined. His mother suddenly clasped her hands together, teary-eyed, before noticing you looking at her. She raised a napkin over her face and played with her hairpin.

“Shiro?” you whispered again, “a little translation, please?”

“Well!” his father blurted out in English, suddenly jovial again. “Let’s order, shall we?”

“Yes!” his mother chirped, also having her mood abruptly cranked up to eleven. “We were waiting so long that we got hungry.” She turned to her husband and they spoke together, looking incredibly happy for an unknown reason. You didn’t like not knowing. 

“What did you say to them?” you hissed under your breath, even going so far as to pull his sleeve. He waved you off.

“You’ll find out,” he said with a little wink. You sighed but let go of his sleeve, deciding that you might as well forget whatever he was hiding, and enjoy his company for the time being.

After all, you didn’t know if it’d be the last you’d see him.


	21. [xxi] - He's too easy to fall in love with.

Truth be told, you didn’t even want to go to his funeral.

Why bother standing around people who wept false tears? Worse yet, being there meant you had to see _real_ tears. You didn’t need to listen to people talk about how good of a person he was, or how his sacrifice for the scientific community was so noble despite its tragedy—you already knew. You knew everything there was to know about him: each good thing, each bad thing…

…and you knew he didn’t deserve to be dead.

You especially didn’t want to face his parents. But it was required and expected of you to show up, and you didn’t want the world to permanently brand you as a girl who ditched on her fiance’s funeral. So you stood, stone-faced as the ceremonial casket drifted past.

You sucked it up and held his parents’ hands as they wept. “I miss him too,” you murmured gently, “and I’m sure he died happy, following his dreams.” Honestly, you didn’t even know what you were saying any more; at this point you were only regurgitating what other people had told you. After that was done, you high-tailed it off the hill, determined not to cry. He wouldn’t want you to cry. 

“Excuse me, Miss? You’re Shiro’s fiancée, right?”

Puzzled with the sudden yell, you turned, facing a young red-faced girl. She had obviously been trying to run after you, but was clumsy in her heels. She caught her breath, bent over on her knees while looking at you expectantly. You nodded warily.

“Yes. Sorry, who are you? Have we met?”

“Katie Holt. And no, but I think you can guess who I am.”

“Ah,” you nodded, remembering the name. In a way, she had it worse than you, having lost both her father and brother. A distant look of muted sorrow passed over your face. “I’m sorry for your loss.

“I didn’t _lose_ anything!” Katie spat, suddenly hostile. Your heart jumped with surprise as she pointed at you accusatorily. “And you didn’t either!”

“I… what are you talking about?”

“Do you really think that they crashed? Do you _really_ think that’s true?”

The answer was no. Shiro was too good a pilot for something like that; but what else were you supposed to believe? Mistakes happened. Especially in deep space. Your gut clenched at the thought, but you grit your teeth and repeated the expression to Katie, who merely scoffed impatiently.

“If you really love him, you’ll believe that he’s still out there. You can feel it, can’t you? They’re still alive, I know it!”

“I do. Love him. Okay? And I hate him for that, and I’m _grieving_. I don’t need a kid like you to feed me false hopes. He’s gone, your dad and brother are gone, and we’ve got to accept it.” The tears you had struggled to hold back fell freely and you palmed them away, frustrated with yourself for losing composure and frustrated with Shiro for leaving you behind. Katie glowered at you.

“I… I don’t believe it. You’re just going to give up?”

“How else am I supposed to go about it? Fly to the Kuiper Belt and see their dead bodies for myself?” You immediately regretted saying such harsh words to a kid and shook your head instead, diverting your shamed gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry, Katie, but… there’s nothing we can do.”

“Why did you say you hated him?” she asked quietly, the sudden gear change in tone surprising you. Her head had fallen forwards and you knew she was hiding tears under her auburn hair. “You said you loved him,” she pressed in a shaky voice, “and you ‘hated him for that’. What do you even mean by that?”

“He proposed to me just before he left, you know?” you said softly, recalling the memory fondly. “I wanted to kick him in the knees. What kind of guy springs something like that and takes off for a year? But I said yes anyways, because I loved him. I said I would wait.” You sighed and took a step forward, patting Katie on the head. “I hate him because he made me fall in love with him. That’s all.”

“…you’re weird. And I don’t care what you think.” She brushed your hand off of her and wiped her nose with her sleeve, fierce determination alight in her eyes. “I know that they’re still out there, whether or not you do too. I’ll find them. Then I’ll bring my family _and_ Shiro back, so that you can tell him you hate him to his face.” She then turned and stormed away. You laughed to yourself a little, unable to do anything else but stand and stare. You wished you could share in her determination, but you were still left too numb to do anything but hope. Wait, and hope. The sun finally set and you were left alone in the dark, wind tousling your hair, and for a second it felt like when he used to do it. You clenched your fists and looked up.

_“Hey, Mr. Perfect!”_

_Shiro turned to look down at you, looking mildly surprised._

_“Me?”_

_“Yeah, you. Who else?”_

_He laughed a little. “I’m not perfect. Nobody is.”_

_“Are you kidding me? You’re valedictorian, an ace pilot, you’re kind to a fault… and you’re cute.”_

_“…you think I’m cute?”_

_“Who wouldn’t, dummy?” You looked away to recollect your composure before staring at him determinedly. “So that’s why… I want to figure out if you’ve got any secrets lurking behind that perfect persona.”_

_Shiro stopped in the middle of the hallway and stared at you, squinting hard._

_“Are you… asking me on a date?”_

_You blinked._

_“For a genius, you can be pretty slow.”_

“I’ll be rooting for you Katie,” you muttered, yours eyes catching on Sagittarius. Pluto and its moons couldn’t be seen by the naked eye, but for a brief second, you thought you saw something flash at you.

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/S7u8XR


End file.
